Backbeat
by Xenoglossy
Summary: [Xenosaga] They would sit with their backs together, eyes closed and fingers tapping out the beat of the music on the floor. Each would try to match the the pattern best they could to the twin beat of their hearts.


**PRE FIC RANTINGS AND A SPRINKLE OF DISCLAIMER:** Another 30kisses theme (http/ based on theme #14 - 'Backbeat'. This entire concept is justified because Albedo so totally quotes Paul McCarthy in XSII.  
I don't own Xenosaga, ect.**Backbeat**They found it in a storage hanger full of old stuff they weren't supposed to look at. Rubedo (who had always been the most adventerous at heart) often poked around the dusty, neglected shelves searching for new books to devour, but once in a while he came back with something _different_.Music had long since evolved beyond analog recording devices- disc players were long obsolete, nevermind the chances of finding a casette player in a museum let alone a _storage hanger_. Nigredo and Albedo both suggested asking Yuriev about it before touching the relic, but once Rubedo spoke on the matter the argument was closed. Besides, they were curious too. There was an entire set of dust-encrusted tapes- a whole world of music from another time- waiting to be explored.Nigredo methodically cleaned the tapes while Rubedo gushed over the lyric booklets, comparing certain verses to his favorite poets. Albedo sat in the corner sifting through the old tapes wistfully, composing tunes in his head to match each album title and wondering how accurate he would be.When the fateful day came, Nigredo sensibly locked their dorm's door and all three of them huddled close together, forming a tight pyramid of secrecy above the ancient apparatus. It was loud at first- an unbearably harsh blast of sreeching chords and pounding bass. Rubedo groped forwards as if trying to grasp something through a windstorm. He caught the volume bar desperately and forced it down, sighing with heavy relief as the decible adjusted.Rubedo was unimpressed and disappointed to discover that music hadn't changed very much across nearly four millenia. Nevertheless, he had an unquenchable thirst for social knowledge and became fascinated by the historical implications hidden in a song's lyrics and style.Nigredo was interested in the complex and elegant twisted of classical and romantic period melodies. Rubedo commented dryly that people tend to like music that reminds them of themselves. Nigredo simply raised his eyebrows and nodded sagely.Of the three of them, it was only Albedo who sat entranced- leaning forwards a bit, eyes wide and hands on his knees- by the spell the music wove. Notes and sounds and silence whirled around him on crude, twenty-first century speakers until he felt like he was drowning in the melody. He picked up casette cases (Louis Armstrong? Beethoven? Paul McCarthy? Who _were_ these men?) and tried to match the title and tune to the tunes he had composed in his head. He hadn't gotten a single one right.Music became a part of their daily routine- another distraction from the days of endless battle simulation and link training. They analyzed chords and arpeggios and scales until their ears bled knowledge and they could place a musical period based simply on a song's back beat.Nigredo grew out of it before Rubedo and Albedo did (Albedo scoffed and challenged Nigredo to really feel passion about something, _anything_). Rubedo never grew tired of analyzing the obscure and often imagined lyrical subtext in his favorite songs. Albedo never wanted to let go of the feeling of sound washing over him like a wave, making him feel as insignificant as a drop in the ocean. It was soothing in that strange sort of way nobody except Albedo seemed able to understand.They would sit with their backs together, eyes closed and fingers tapping out the beat of the music on the floor. Each would try to match the the pattern best they could to the twin beat of their hearts.Rubedo found a harmonica one day and decided that he would learn how to make his own music. He was horrible at first of course, but Nigredo and Albedo tolerated it because Rubedo was not the sort of person who would stand _not_ to be tolerated. Albedo liked to fall asleep to the sound of Rubedo's harmonica. It was a sad, mournful instrument that was made truly beautiful because the sound mingled with the exhausted breath of the player. As far as Albedo was concerned, it was worth all the bad playing in the world just to hear Rubedo's exquisite wheeze afterwards.They'd sneak out onto the complex grounds at night (because Albedo couldn't sleep and Rubedo was bored) and sit as close together as they could- Albedo's head on Rubedo's shoulder- and Rubedo would play. It felt like they were the only two people in the entire Universe. Albedo liked it best that way.The first time Rubedo played his harmonica for Sakura, Albedo was furious. It was hurt, mostly, channeled into rage because the last thing he wanted was to look weak again. He sulked a bit, glared a lot and didn't say anything at all until Rubedo announced cheerfully that he was going to the Encephelon alone, harmonica in hand.Albedo's resolve broke a little- his shoulders slumped and he might have sniffled a bit- but he didn't bother explaining himself. Rubedo would say he was being a moron anyways. He always did.Rubedo stared at him curiously for a moment before reaching out and patting Albedo on the head. Albedo looked up at his twin through his eyelashes and hated the way he leaned into the touch."Don't worry, Albedo. I can play the harmonica for you anytime you want to hear it. But I can only play for Sakura some of the time."Albedo didn't say anything, just cast his eyes downwards and studied the patterns in the dirt."Don't be like that. You're my brother- it's not like I'm _replacing_ you, moron."A smile accompanied the harsh word, but for some reason it didn't make Albedo feel any better.fin. 


End file.
